


Bad Moon Rising

by SoulSurvivor_36



Series: The Lives We Make for Ourselves [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Original Hunt, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 03:04:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7342015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulSurvivor_36/pseuds/SoulSurvivor_36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Delilah is in Nashville when she comes across a potential case.  She calls Sam and Dean to come check it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic immediately follows S9:E07 Bad Boys. Assume there are spoilers if you haven't seen season 9.
> 
> The title and lyrics are from Creedence Clearwater Revival's song.  
> Here's a link to the YouTube video.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5BmEGm-mraE

_I see the bad moon arising._

_I see trouble on the way._

_I see earthquakes and lightnin'._

_I see bad times today._

_Don't go around tonight,_

_Well, it's bound to take your life,_

_There's a bad moon on the rise._

 

Delilah left the library at closing, just like she had done for the last two days.  Summer was well under way and the campus was mostly deserted, except for the few students taking courses during the summer term and those doing research, like her.  The air was slightly chilly for July, and a thin layer of mist was snaking across the library lawn in tendrils, glowing eerily by the light of the moon.  Delilah pulled on her jean jacket and walked down the steps of the library, slinging her bag across her shoulders again.

Delilah had taken a week’s vacation so she could spend time here at Vanderbilt to continue her research.  Since discovering the existence of angels and demons, she had switched to religious studies and found the topic to be so vast it was hard to get through to the practical information.  She contacted one of her old profs from Kansas U in Laurence who put her in communication with a collegue here in Tenessee.

The meeting had gone surprisingly well, Dr Worth hadn’t batted an eye when she suggested the existence of things like angels and demons walking among them.  He had even pointed her to certain texts and collections she could use to guide her search.  She had immediately rushed to the library which was across the sprawling lawn from his office, and started looking up those documents.  Two days later she was still at it, and although she didn’t manage to find much that could be considered useful in the hunter sense of the word, she was learning a lot about angels and demons from an anthropological perspective.

She took a right and headed into the trees that seperated the library from the parking area where she had left her car earlier that day.  The thin layer of mist was enough to give Delilah the chills and she started fiddling with her keys as she approached her poor old Tercel.  Suddenly, from behind her on the footpath, she heard the sound of running footsteps.  She turned around to see a man flayling his arms.  “Leave me alone!” he screamed as he ran.

Delilah looked down the path behind him and saw nothing.  He was out of sight as quickly as he had appeared, swallowed up by the fog, leaving Delilah confused.  She waited a few minutes, her heartbeat racing, her body primed to fight or run if need be, but hearing nothing, she started to calm down.  She got into her car and made her way back to her motel.

Back in her room on the second floor, she made herself a quick salad, quickly dismissing the event as college behaviour and turning her attention back to her research.  She reviewed her day’s notes while listening to her music and not missing work at all.  She turned in around midnight, looking forward to more research the next day and feeling more relaxed than she’d been in a long time.

 

The next day dawned, bright and beautiful and hot.  Delilah rolled out of bed lazily and stretched like a cat, basking in the glow from the sun behind the thin curtains.  She showered, listening to her music on her tablet and singing along – _There’s a bad moon on the rise_!  She couldn’t remember the last time she sang in the shower.  By the time the opening hours to the library rolled around, she was dressed in her dark-wash capri jeans,  her baggy, off the shoulder grey t-shirt and a black three button vest.  She shoved her feet into her cherry red and black damask Dr Martens boots.  She felt like a rock star.

With a confident bounce in her step she grabbed her messenger bag, stowed away her tablet in the front pocket and walked out the door, heading down the balcony to the parking and her car.  On her way to campus, she grabbed a caramel flavoured coffee at Starbucks and a scone.  The radio was blaring as she drove down the road, headed towards the library parking.

Everything came to a sudden screeching halt though when she pulled into the lot.  There were a few police cruisers parked here and there along the edge by the footpath, along with an ambulance and a nondescript vehicle marked “coroner.”  She could see yellow police tape further up and Delilah had a chilling sensation as she looked at the spot where the screaming man had disappeared into the mist the night before.  There were police and other officials milling around and a few students had gathered near the edge of the tape in morbid fascination.

Delilah approached the scene warily, stuck between her curiosity and aversion.  As she drew nearer, she heard some of the college students talking.

“I don’t know, did you hear what happened?”

“I heard one of them say his skull was caved in.  How do you do that to yourself?”

“Maybe someone bashed it in with something, you know like in the movies.”

“Oh God!  You don’t mean to say there’s a killer on the loose?”

“It’s not even the first one, I heard that two more people were found with their heads bashed in since last week.”

“Maybe it was a mugging gone wrong.”

“They said he was out here all night, some jogger found him this morning, brains all over the place.”

“Aaaah gross Kitty!”

Delilah listened and tried to connect what was said with what she had seen the night before.  Something told her it was the same person who had been running, screaming to be left alone.  But Delilah didn’t see anything chasing him.  She knew, though, that it didn’t mean nothing was there.  She turned around and left the scene fishing for her phone in her pocket.  She searched through her contacts as she walked away scouting for a place to talk privately.  She sat down on the steps of a nearby building and pressed the call button.  A voice she wasn’t expecting picked up.

“Hello?” said the older Winchester in his customary gravelly voice.

“Dean, hey, it’s Delilah.” There was a pause at the other end, and for a minute she thought maybe he didn’t remember her, then he spoke.

“Hey, sorry, Sam’s taking a shower.  You want him to call you back?”

“No, actually it’s about a monster, maybe.”

Dean’s tone became serious, “Are you in trouble?  Did something happen?”

“No!  Well, not to me at least.  I don’t know if it’s anything really, it was just weird.”

“Well, we specialize in weird, hold on,” Dean’s voice became muffled and she could hear him mumbling, probably talking to Sam, “Sam’s here, I’ll put you on speaker.”

She heard him put the phone down on a hard surface, then she heard Sam’s voice.

“Hey Delilah.”

“Hey Sam, listen, I don’t know if I’m blowing everything out of proportion, but they found a body this morning, skull bashed in, and apparently he’s not the first.”

“Could it be a mugging?” Sam asked.

“I don’t think so.  I saw the guy last night as I was walking to my car.  He was running like he was being chased and screaming, except there was nothing behind him…  Nothing that I could see anyways.”

“You said it wasn’t the first time, was it the same for the others?” Dean chimed in.

“I really don’t know, I heard that from some of the other people hanging around this morning.”

“Hmm, sounds kinda thin,” Dean said.

“Oh, right,” she knew it was probably nothing, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be a bother,” she said, feeling sillier by the second.  Of course it was nothing.

“Dean, we’ve looked into things for a lot less.  We should check it out,” Sam said.

“Sammy, you just got knocked around, you need to take it easy.  Now’s not the time to go impressing pretty girls.”  Delilah blushed and heard someone make a scoffing sound.

“That’s not what this is about and you got knocked around as much as I did…” said Sam, “This is stupid.” Sam spoke to the phone, “Delilah.”

“Yeah?”

“We’ll come check it out, we can be in Topeka tonight,”

“Actually, I’m not in Topeka.  I took a vacation.  I’m in Nashville.”

“Nashville.  Didn’t peg you for a country girl,” Dean said chuckling.

“I’m doing research at Vanderbilt,” she corrected him.

“Right, that makes sense.”  Dean’s voice grew fainter, as he obviously walked away from the phone, mumbling about people always getting themselves into trouble.

“Ignore him.  Text me the address and we should be there this afternoon.”

“Thanks Sam.  I’ll try to get some more information.”

“Just remember to be careful.  We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet.”

“Ok.  See you soon.”

“Bye.”

Delilah pressed the end button on her phone and contemplated her boots.  She hoped she wasn’t wasting their time.  She got up from the steps and headed back to her car, texting Sam the address to her motel and her room number, feeling both excited and apprehensive…  She would be seeing the Winchesters again soon.

 

Shortly after lunch, there was a knock on Delilah’s motel room door.  She got up from her seat at the small table in the corner and opened the door.  The brothers were standing there, Sam giving her a big smile and bending down to wrap her in a hug, giving her a clear view of Dean rolling his eyes.  He nodded at Delilah when he saw that she was looking his way.  Sam straightened up and Delilah moved to the side to let them into the room.  Sam was telling her that she caught them at a good time, they were heading back to Kansas from upstate New York, helping out an old friend of Dean’s.  Delilah listened, but she kept glancing back at Dean, she hadn’t seen him since the Shaman case in Enid, and she was feeling strangely anxious seeing him there. It was a small room, and suddenly it became very full with the three of them standing around.  Dean sat on the end of the bed, putting down his duffel bag while Sam pulled out one of the chairs from the table and put down his laptop.

Delilah leaned back against the clothes dresser and she told them everything she knew so far, taking a businesslike tone.  There wasn’t much to add to what she had already told them, although she did manage to find more details on the previous deaths.  Turns out there were three others, all of which happened at night in the past week and all of the victims had their skulls cracked open.  She had found the names of a couple witnesses too while she was digging.

“That’s great work, Delilah,” said Sam, looking pleased.

Dean looked at her a few seconds then stood up.  “Alright, time to suit up.  I’ll go snoop around the coroner’s office and see if I can’t get access to the autopsy files.  Why don’t you two check out the scene, see if there’s anything that might be overlooked.”

Dean picked up his duffel bag and headed into the washroom.  He emerged a few minutes later wearing a charcoal suit with a white shirt and a red geometric patterned tie.  He tried to slap away a few wrinkles from his trousers with no success.  He straightened out his tie.  He put the duffel bag down on the floor and headed towards the door.  Delilah watched him leave, feeling strangely disappointed, then she turned her attention back to Sam.

“So, where do we start?” she asked him.

“Let’s go to the site of the latest killing, see what there is to see.  It should be cleared out by now.”

         

Delilah pulled into her usual spot in the library parking.  Sam was right, although the yellow police tape was still there, the emergency personnel were gone.  There were however still a few students milling around curiously.  After Sam managed to extricate himself from Delilah’s car, they walked up to the yellow tape and she saw him take out a black box with lights on it like a radiation detector.  It emitted a high pitched screeching sound and started blinking when he pointed it at the cordoned off area.  He turned it off and put it back in his pocket.

“Looks like we might have a vengeful spirit.”

“Who you gonna call?”  Delilah couldn’t help herself as a grin spread across her face.  Sam looked at her frowning but then cracked into a half-hearted smile.

“Us apparently.  Alright, ghost 101,” Sam and Delilah walked away from the yellow tape and the curious onlookers and headed for a more private place to talk.  They ended up sitting on a low wall outside the library.  Delilah sat cross-legged facing Sam’s profile, while he sat facing the library’s main entrance.  Sam gave her the basics on how to defend herself from a ghost; iron, salt.  He also gave her the rundown on how to get rid of a ghost; salt and burn the remains, or the object they are anchored to.

Delilah listened and committed the information to memory.  She found amusing that she’d be carting around salt with her from now on, such a simple thing.  She also wondered to herself where she could get something made of iron she could use to defend herself with.  She turned to ask Sam when she noticed him looking forlornly at a group of students walking out of the library’s arched entrance and laughing.  His eyebrows were knitted together and his lips were pursed making his cheekbones even more angular than usual.

“Are you ok, Sam?” she asked him, laying a hand on his arm.  It seemed to snap him out of it,

“Um, yeah. I’m fine.” He took a deep breath and let it out, “Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like, not knowing about all this… stuff,” Sam shook himself a little, “But I made my choice, so no use thinking about it now.”

Delilah pondered the challenges of living the life of a hunter – always on the road, travelling from case to case, living out of motel rooms, never really having a home, the ever present danger.  She imagined it must be rough.

Delilah noticed again the tightness around his eyes, like last time she had seen him at the bunker.  She worried that he wasn’t getting enough sleep.  Dean had mentioned when they were on speaker phone that they had been knocked around some but this was more than that.  Sam looked exhausted, like he could sleep for a week.

“It must be hard, doing this kind of thing all the time.  Always looking for the next creature to kill,” she mused out loud.

“It’s not so much looking to kill, more like trying to save people.  It makes all the difference in the end.  The lives we save make this worthwhile.  Saving people, hunting things, the family business, as Dean calls it.”  Delilah’s eyebrows shot up.

“Family business?  How long have you been doing this?”

Sam passed his hands through his long brown hair, placing it so it didn’t fall into his face.  Delilah reached up when a loose strand fell on his cheek and she tucked it back with the rest.  Sam looked at her a moment, then looked at his hands and told her about his past – how his mother had died when he was a baby, killed by a demon, how it had set his father on the path to becoming a hunter, how for as long as he could remember, he lived in motel rooms or rundown apartments and ate greasy foods and went from school to school following the hunt.

Delilah listened, unable to imagine living that way her whole life.

“I’m sorry Sam,” she said, looking him right in his grey-green eyes.

“Don’t be,” he responded, “I have my brother. We watch out for each other. It could be a whole lot worse.”

“It must be nice, you and Dean being so close.”

Sam let out a short, caustic laugh.  “It has its moments.”

Delilah smiled and looked away towards the trees lining the lawn.  “Well, I never had that kind of bond, I’m an only child.  And my childhood was fairly normal, for the most part.”

Delilah told Sam all about growing up in a small town in the south of Kansas, everybody knew each other, she had a couple good friends, she did well in school.  And then her mother passed away when she was twelve and her whole life turned upside down.  Her father move them away to Kansas City, anything to get away from the memories.  Then, he proceeded to drink their life away.  Every few months they would move because they couldn’t afford the rent and so life went.  Every day she would come home and not know what to expect. Sometimes he was almost normal, but mostly he was passed out, or crying or yelling and throwing things.  She skipped over those things that made it necessary for her to start learning self-defence, she doesn’t talk about those things.  She went to school and prepared her own food, did her own cleaning and cooking.  From twelve on, she basically raised herself.  She got a job as soon as she could and started saving all her money, so she could leave as soon as she turned eighteen and she did.  She enrolled at University and pursued her interest in mythology, she always loved fairy tales.

“I guess we all want the fairy tales to be real sometimes,” Sam said.

“Yeah,” Delilah scoffed, “Who would’ve thought that the monsters would turn out to be real, but not the happily ever afters…”

They sat in silence staring off in different directions.  Delilah looked at the sculpture right behind them on the lawn.  It was a massive bronze tree sculpture, the Tree of Learning, the trunks and branches sculpted with an attention to detail, the buds just starting to open. It was a great concept but kind of looked creepy with the bare twisted branches at the height of summer when the trees on campus were full of leaves. Sam looked off to the side of the library building, down the footpath to the right, lost in thought. Delilah turned towards him and studied his profile.  He had a pensive look on his face, eyebrows slightly frowning, hair falling forward against his angular cheek bones.  Sam certainly was very handsome.  Both Winchesters were. Delilah shook herself, remembering why they were there.  “So, what’s our next step?”

Sam switched back to work mode too, sounding much more focused.  “We need to find and interview the witnesses, get more information on what happened.”

Delilah pulled out her list of names that she had gotten from her internet search.  She had no idea though how they could go about finding them.  Sam had the solution to that.  They headed across the street to the Starbucks so he could connect to the wi-fi.  It only took him a few minutes to access the registrar’s files and find classes and residence information.  Delilah was awestruck.

“You’re going to have to show me how you do that, that’s amazing!”

Sam glanced up at her and cleared his throat.  “You learn to bend the rules when it comes to hunting.”

Just then, Sam’s phone rang.  He checked the caller ID then picked it up.  It was Dean on the other end.  “Hey, what’d you find out?” Sam asked him. Delilah could hear Dean’s voice faintly as he responded.

“Four victims total, all with skulls cracked open, all in the past week. Cause of death blunt force trauma, but get this, last night’s guy had tree bark in his noggin.  They found his hair, blood and skin on a nearby tree.  Coroner said he would’ve had to ram his head into the tree a bunch of times for him to have cracked his skull.”

“The EMF near the scene is off the charts, I think we’re dealing with a vengeful spirit.  We’re on our way to interview the witnesses.  Try and find out if the victims had anything in common.”

“Right. You sure?  I can come with you to the interviews,” Dean said, sounding concerned.

“Naw man, it’s fine.  Delilah and I can handle the interviews.”

Sam glanced her way and smiled.  She smiled back then went back to her tablet.  She was locating the building for one of the witnesses.  She had an afternoon class that was about to finish.  Sam wrapped up his call and they headed back across the street and onto the campus trying to look like they belonged there.


	2. Chapter 2

_I hear hurricanes ablowing._

_I know the end is coming soon._

_I fear rivers over flowing._

_I hear the voice of rage and ruin._

_Don't go around tonight,_

_Well, it's bound to take your life,_

_There's a bad moon on the rise._

 

Hours later, Sam and Delilah drove into the parking lot of the motel feeling a little disappointed with their afternoon’s work.  They had managed to track down only two of the people on Delilah’s list and the information they got from them wasn’t all that helpful.  They pretty much saw what Delilah had seen: the victims running and screaming.  One of them had actually witnessed the girl crouch down on the ground and ram her head into a large rock over and over until she finally fell over to the side, her skull caved in.  The witness, Jeremy, was still pretty shaken up about it.  They ended up finding him at the university hospital being treated for shock.

The Impala was nowhere to be seen, so Dean wasn’t back from whatever mission he was on.  Sam and Delilah headed up to the second floor and she unlocked the door.  She trudged into the room, feeling exhausted and low.  She let herself fall face forward onto the bed as Sam settled himself at the small table, turning his laptop back on, diving in again.  She admired his tenacity.  She reluctantly took out her tablet from her bag, and rolled onto her back, propping her foot on the edge of the bed.

They just didn’t have enough information to put all the pieces together.  Sam still thought it was a vengeful spirit, but the victims seemed to be hurting themselves, as opposed to being thrown around.  Then again, what could possibly cause them to want to split their skulls open in the first place?  Maybe the spirit was possessing them?  But clearly, from the witnesses, they felt they were being pursued by something.  Without a link between the victims though, it would be hard to identify the spirit in order to put it to rest, hopefully Dean had found something that would help.

As if on cue, the door to the room swung open and Dean walked in carrying a take out bag and a six pack of beer and loosening his tie.

“I really hate these things.  Whoever decided that men should wear nooses around their necks in order to look respectable is a dick,” he said, throwing the tie onto the bed.  Delilah scoffed glancing at him around her tablet as he unbuttoned the top of his shirt.

“Yeah, you can put him right up there with the asshole who invented high heels.” Dean laughed at that, cracking a melting smile right at her.  Delilah’s breath hitched and she hid behind her tablet again.  Sam may be handsome, but the effect Dean had on her was visceral.

He set the take out and beer on the table and looked over Sam’s shoulder at the computer screen.

“You don’t need to hack in, Sam, I already checked out the files from the cops.”

Delilah put down her tablet and sat up on the bed crossing her legs under her.  Dean pulled out the second chair, sat down and started digging into the take out bag.  He pulled out three burgers wrapped in foil.  He reached across the gap to the bed and handed one to Delilah, who took it gratefully.  She hadn’t noticed, with all the running around, just how starved she was.  She unwrapped it, using the foil as a holder and bit into the bread, meat and veggie layers with enthusiasm, closing her eyes to thoroughly enjoy the mixing of the flavours.

“Mmm, so good,” she groaned.

“Should we leave you two alone?”  Dean asked jokingly.

Delilah opened her eyes to see both Sam and Dean looking at her amused.  Sam’s eyebrows were halfway up his forehead and Dean’s lips were curved upwards at the corners, his eyes crinkling in mirth.  They had barely unwrapped their own burgers.  Dean reached into the six pack and pulled out two beers, uncapping them easily and placing them in front of him and Sam.  He reached in and pulled out another one, tipping it towards her.  “You want one?” Delilah nodded as she took another bite of the burger.  He uncapped that one and handed it to her.  She reached forward and took it from him, her fingers brushing his accidentally.  He didn’t let go of the bottle, so she looked up and found him staring at her with his unreadable green eyes.  She froze momentarily, both of them holding on to the bottle, locking stares.  Then, the moment passed, and Dean turned away, letting go.  He picked up his burger and bit into it.

Delilah quickly took a good swig of the beer, swallowing the sharp, bitter liquid, and tried to ignore the twist in her gut. She put it down on the floor by the bed and went back to the burger.

Between bites, Sam asked Dean about what he had found at the police station.

“It wasn’t easy.  They don’t mess around with protocol here.  I barely got anywhere talking to the cops directly, kept giving me the run around.  Times like these I really miss Bobby, Kevin cannot pull off FBI boss at all,” he told them.

“So how did you get to the files then?” asked Sam, sounding annoyed.

“Emma.  Cute, little red head office assistant.  Could not resist a smile from yours truly,”  Dean announced, looking proud of himself, “A little flirting here, a little touching there…  She was putty in my hands.”  He cracked a wide smile and took another swallow of his beer.

Delilah stared at her booted feet, letting her hair hide her face, trying hard to not look like she was blushing, which she was, of course.  Stupid cheeks.  Dean’s words triggered something in the pit of her stomach and she couldn’t help but wish she had been the target of Dean’s flirting.  She had been thinking about him a lot since Enid, and since her disturbing, yet erotic dream at the bunker.  And if she was really honest with herself, she’d been thinking about him since the vampire incident those few months back, like an itch at the back of her mind.  She wanted to know how he felt on her skin and how he tasted in her mouth.  How to go about it though was lost on her, usually when these cravings came up, she’d just wear a pretty get up and wait for someone to get the hint, which they usually did, but so far Dean hadn’t given any indication that he was interested.

Delilah bent down to pick up her beer as a cover for looking down.  Sam coaxed Dean on, both seemed oblivious to her discomfort; thank goodness for small mercies.  That could get awkward very quickly.

“So what did you find in the files?”

“Big pile of nada,” he said taking a sip of his beer. “There’s nothing linking the victims.  They didn’t know each other, they were from different parts of the country, all different ages, they didn’t belong to frats or sororities.  I don’t know why this ghost is targeting them.  Or even if it is targeting anybody at all.”

“Did all the deaths happen near the library?”  Delilah chipped in. Dean turned his eyes on her, and she desperately tried to keep her face neutral.

“No.  They weren’t all directly on campus either.”

“Is there a pattern?  They can’t just be random kills Dean,”  Sam responded.

“I dunno Sam.  If there’s a pattern, the cops didn’t see it.”

“Alright, well maybe they’re not looking right.  Can you pin point the locations on the map?”

Dean balled up his empty burger wrapper and tossed it into the take out bag.  He got up and made his way around the table to look over Sam’s shoulder.  Delilah stood up too, throwing her wrapper into the open bag and taking a sip of her beer as she moved behind Sam so she could see as well.  She made sure to stand a few steps back though, keeping her distance from Dean.

He pointed to four locations on the map.  Delilah had to agree with Dean and the cops, there really didn’t seem to be a pattern.  She went back to sit on the edge of the bed and fiddled with her tablet, taking note of the locations and doing a quick search to see if anything unusual happened in those places in the past, but nothing significant popped up so she put the tablet back down.  Dean sat down again and asked Sam what he had found.  Sam told him quickly about the two witnesses they had tracked down and the little information they got.  Dean reached for a second beer then paused.

“Wait.  Did you say one of the witnesses was in the hospital for shock?”

“Yeah,” Sam responded, unsure.

“Two of the victims were being treated for depression at the clinic on campus.  It didn’t seem connected ‘cause the other two weren’t.  You think this thing is going after sick people?”

“What, like the Rit Zien?” Sam asked sceptically.  Delilah made a note in her hunting doc to look up Rit Zien.

“Maybe,” Dean said unsure, “Doesn’t sound like those dickbags’ M.O. though, cracking open your own skull sounds kinda painful and they’re supposed to kill you without pain.  Don’t see the difference though, dead is dead.”

“Alright, do the other two victims have a medical history?” Sam said, mostly to himself.

He leaned back over the computer and started clicking and typing, a look of serious concentration on his face.  Dean just sat back and sipped his beer, looking thoughtful.  Delilah was in awe, watching the Winchesters bounce ideas off each other and actually finding leads was impressive, like watching a well oiled machine, all the pieces just fall in place.

Turns out the other two victims had recently visited the university hospital as well.  One of them as an out patient being treated for stress and the last one had made a trip to the ER for a pre existing heart condition.  And they had all been treated by the same doctor.

“Bingo,” Dean exclaimed.  “Let’s go then.  Check out this asshole.”

Sam retrieved his bag from the Impala and changed into his FBI suit.  Dean put his tie back on, grumbling again.  Delilah made to follow them out the door.

“Whoa there missy,” said Dean in his condescending tone, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m coming with!”

“No way, you’re staying here way out of danger.”

“Will you stow your macho bullshit?  We’ve had this argument before.  I can take care of myself and I’m not staying here while the two of you go chasing monsters.”  Delilah could feel the anger bubbling just below the surface. Who was he to tell her what to do?

Dean turned full towards her stepping into her personal space, “You called us remember?  Because we know about this shit.  If I tell you to stay put, it’s for your own good.  Now just chill here for a bit, read a YA novel or whatever and we’ll come back when it’s over, got it?”

He really shouldn’t have pointed his hand in her face…  In one fluid movement, Delilah grabbed his wrist, pulled him forward, off balance, stepped around him and twisted his arm back, keeping just enough pressure to let him know she had him.  Dean let out a groan and Sam’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he laughed, quick and sharp.

“Dean, just let her come,” he said, sounding amused.

“Fine,” Dean’s voice was strained.  Delilah let him go.  “But she’s waiting in the car,” he added as he rubbed his wrist, walking past Sam and out the door.

Sam laughed again and said, “Dude, you got bested by a girl.”  He turned to her and gave her a wide smile.  Delilah beamed.

“Shut up, Sammy!”  Dean barked back.

Delilah followed Dean out and Sam brought up the rear, laughing.

 

The black Impala pulled into the hospital’s visitors’ parking.  It was going on 8 p.m. and the sun was setting low behind the buildings to the west.  The boys got out of the car, buttoning their suit jackets and looking very much like they had just stepped into a crime show.  Delilah couldn’t help but feel awe for their ability to switch into their FBI personas so easily.  Dean knocked on the back side window and Delilah rolled it down.

“Stay in the car ok?” he told her, and something in his voice made her think twice before arguing.  “If you see anything strange, call us.”  He handed her his FBI business card and she almost laughed at how ridiculous this was, she felt like he was playing her.

“Thanks, but I already have Sam’s number, this is a bit redundant.”  She made to hand it back to him, but his stare stopped her.  He looked so serious, and for just a second she thought that maybe the tightness in his jaw and the way he swallowed betrayed something like concern.

“Listen, about that,” he glanced over the car towards the door to the ER, Delilah looked around just long enough to see Sam standing there waiting for his brother.  “Don’t call Sam anymore ok?”

“What the hell, Dean?” Delilah exploded, “You’re gonna tell me you get to decide who your brother talks to?  That's bullshit.” Delilah was fuming, what a condescending asshole, if he wants her out of his life it’s one thing, but Sam’s a grown man, he can make his own decisions.

“Damn it Delilah, it’s not like that,” he raised his voice, then clenched his jaw a moment, controlling his anger.  Delilah crossed her arms and looked at him expectantly.

“What is it like then?  I get that you don’t like me, for whatever reason, but this is ridiculous.”

Dean looked at her again, capturing her brown eyes in his stare and her breath hitched again at the intensity, and something else… sadness?

“Look, Sammy’s not well ok?  He puts on a brave face, but he’s sick.  He needs time away from hunting to get better and when you call him he just comes charging to the rescue without thinking about himself.  I just want him to get better.”  Delilah thought about the tightness around Sam’s eyes and worried that it was worse than it looked.

“Dean!” Sam called out just then.  Dean looked up and called back,

“Yeah!” Lowering his voice and looking back at Delilah he finished, “So here’s the deal, you wanna talk to Sam? Go right ahead, hell, it’s none of my business what you do with my brother,” Delilah felt that comment just hanging in the air between them, she wanted to tell him there was nothing going on between them but then he went on, “But, if you need help with a hunt, you call me.  I’ll come if I can, and Sam’ll stay out of trouble, alright?”

Delilah was stunned, that was not what she expected at all from what she had seen so far of the older Winchester brother.  She had him completely wrong, this was not about her at all, it’s Sam Dean was worried about.  She closed her fingers around his card and nodded at nothing in particular as he walked away to join his younger brother and then enter the hospital.

Delilah pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and entered Dean’s number in her contacts.  She sat back on the comfortable leather bench and looked out the window pondering the mysteries of the Winchester brothers.  After a few minutes, she pulled out her earphones and connected them to her phone’s bluetooth.  She started her playlist and let the cheerful sounding southern rock smooth away her worries -   _I see the bad moon arising._ _I see trouble on the way._ Funny how sometimes lyrics can strike you differently at different times… suddenly she didn’t find the song as cheerful as before _._

She pulled out her tablet from her bag and started researching the doctor Sam and Dean were interviewing.  She was reading a research article on a new treatment for dissociative identity disorder the doctor was involved in when a movement in the deepening shadows caught her attention.  She looked up just in time to see Jeremy Dutton, the patient they had interviewed earlier that day about one of the victims, walking quickly away from the hospital, looking around like he was afraid of being followed.

Delilah watched as he headed north towards the main campus.  She made a split second decision, yanked off her earphones, grabbed her recently bought box of salt, and took off after him.  There weren’t many people out that evening, word about the assaults had probably gotten around, keeping most students in their dorms.  As a result, Delilah barely saw anybody as she turned and followed Jeremy into an alley just out of sight of the car.

Ahead of her Jeremy seemed to have stopped suddenly and he stood stiffly, holding his arms away from his body rigidly.  Delilah slowed down and got closer to him.  She was about to call out to him, to ask if he was ok, when she noticed the fog rolling in around her ankles and stretching towards the man.  Delilah felt the cold chill spread from the fog up her legs, the dampness seeping into her bones, then suddenly, Jeremy screamed and clamped his hands over his ears, crumpling into a ball.  Delilah rushed forward and kneeled down beside him, touching his shoulder.  He looked up at her with terrified, pleading eyes, “Make it stop, I can’t take it anymore.  Make it stop, please!”

“Make what stop?  Jeremy tell me what’s wrong.”

He looked up and startled as he saw something over her shoulder.  He fell backwards onto his ass and started crawling away, scrambling on the damp pavement.  Delilah looked around, and at first all she could see was the thickening fog around them, and then she saw it.  The shape of a woman, gaunt and sick looking with limp long black hair, stepped out of the mist, human looking and yet clearly not, its body materializing like it had been mere particles of moisture a moment before and stepping slowly towards her.  It was wearing a crimson coloured dress that was clinging to its body like it was soaking.  Its eyes were sunken into its skull and its mouth was open in a silent scream.

Delilah fell back, fear soaking into her like the fog.  She heard Jeremy screaming behind her and she turned around, onto her hands and feet and ran to where he was cowering by the wall.  She fell beside him, scratching up her arm on something sharp, and turned him to look at her.

“Make it stop!  Get it out of my head!” he pleaded with her again, holding his head above his ears, the hair pulling out in clumps.

“Listen, I’m going to make a circle around us ok?” she was trying hard to sound calm, but she was on the edge of panic, “It can’t get to us inside the circle.  I’m gonna help you but you have to stay in the circle!”

She opened her box of salt and poured it around them, making sure there were no gaps in the thick salt line, just like Sam had told her.  Then, she wrapped her arms around Jeremy, as if she could hold him there.  She turned to look at the ghost again and was terrified to see it standing just outside the salt line.  It was just looking at them, its head bent at an angle as if it was thinking.  She couldn’t take her eyes off of it and neither could Jeremy.  Delilah had never been so scared in her life, her heart was pounding in her chest so hard she could feel it in her ears and down to her toes, screaming at her to get the hell out of there, but she forced herself to stay still, the ghost couldn’t cross the line, she kept repeating to herself.  And it seemed to be working, the ghost had stopped trying to advance on them, it was just standing there, staring at them with its dark sunken eyes.

And then Jeremy started shrieking, clutching his head again.  He threw her off and she fell to the ground as he stood up and ran down the alley.  “No Jeremy!  Come back!”  Suddenly, he veered to the side and ran headlong into the brick wall with a sickening squelching sound.  He fell to his knees on the hard asphalt and pulled his head back and hit it again right into the brick.  “No!” she looked back to the ghost of the woman still standing just outside her circle, “Stop it!” Delilah yelled at it, the tears rolling down her face as he again rammed his head into the wall.

“Delilah!”

She turned away from the figure in the blood red dress and saw Dean turning the corner of the alley and running towards her.  The ghost melted into the fog, invisible to Delilah, “No, Dean!  It was right here, it’s not safe!”

She cried out when Dean was suddenly flung backwards and he hit the pavement hard as he fell.  Delilah wanted to run to him, but she couldn’t leave her circle.  Dean got to his feet painfully just as Sam came around the corner too, carrying a sawed off double barrel shotgun.  “Sammy, it’s here.  Get Delilah out!”  Sam gave the gun to Dean and started running towards her.  The ghost materialized a few feet to his left and she yelled and pointed.  The shotgun blast echoed off the walls as Dean shot right at the ghost. It faded into the fog again.

“I don’t see it Sam, where the hell is it?”

“I don’t see it either Dean.” Sam reached Delilah and wrapped his arms around her, picking her up off the ground.  He turned back towards where Dean was standing, scanning the fog, shotgun ready.  Standing a few feet away, the ghost turned and looked right at her.  Delilah stared, terrified even held in Sam’s arms, as the ghost opened its mouth wide again and screamed.

The sound came from everywhere, from the ground, from the sky, from the buildings, from the very fog and it seeped inside of her like the dampness, pressing its way into her brain.  It was unbearable and Delilah clamped her hands over her ears and screamed too.  She felt Sam flinch and shout.

“Sammy!!”  Dean yelled.

“It’s a fucking banshee Dean!”

“Fuck!  Get out of there!”

Sam squeezed Delilah more tightly against him and started running full out.  Delilah saw the ghost follow them with its stare but it made no move to attack them.  They passed Dean who covered them with the shotgun, blindly staring around for any sign of it.  The sound faded from her head as the fog thinned.  She removed her hands from her ears.

“Wait!  What about Jeremy?  He’s still back there,” she told Sam as he continued to run towards the car, Dean right behind them.

“Nothing we can do about it right now.  We have to get away from here.”

Dean opened the back door to the Impala and Sam swung into the back seat, still holding Delilah in his lap.  Dean slammed the door shut and hopped into the driver’s seat, starting the engine and squealing the tires as he accelerated out of there.

The scream completely faded from her head and she slipped out of Sam’s arms to sit beside him on the seat.  He leaned his head back and she could see his chest heaving and the blood pumping hard through the vein on his neck.  He loosened his FBI tie and unbuttoned the collar, trying to catch his breath.

“Damnit Sam!” Dean exclaimed from the front seat, “You ok?”

“I’m fine Dean,” he said hoarsely.

“Son of a bitch!  We should’ve known it was a banshee.  That was too fucking close.  Did you see it Sam?” Dean’s voice was rough as he drove too fast down the dark road.

“No, I couldn’t see it,” Sam answered, “but I heard it.”

“Alright, that’s not so bad.”

Dean stared forward as he drove at breakneck speed towards the motel.  Slowly, Delilah calmed herself out of the panic and started sorting the experience into categories so she could remember it more clearly: sight, smell, sound.  Only problem was she didn’t want to remember it.

Dean pulled into the motel parking.  Sam got out of the car and moved to the back to open the trunk, Dean joined him just as quickly.  Delilah could hear their muffled voices but couldn’t make out any particular words.  She leaned her head forward onto the backrest of the front seat, covering her face with her hands.  She felt the trunk slamming shut and heard the crunch of footsteps heading towards the motel, but she just couldn’t bring herself to move.  She kept replaying the events in her mind, looking for something she could have done to save the poor tormented man.  She could see his face as he begged her to help him, and she could hear the sickening wet sound as his head hit the wall.  She shook her head, her hair falling around her like a shield, starting again the, so far, failed process of separating events from emotion.

The back door on the driver’s side opened and a warm body sat down next to her.  Expecting Sam, she lifted her head and was surprised to see Dean instead.  He had taken off his jacket.  Delilah watched him pull off his tie again and undo the top button of his white shirt.  Unlike she and Sam, he still looked perfectly composed, like he hadn’t just been thrown back a few feet by a ghost, like this was an every day thing as opposed to this side of fucked up.  Delilah spoke in a near whisper,  “How do you do it?”

Dean turned to look at her, “Do what?”

“This,” she said gesturing at him, the car and the motel, “I couldn’t help him.  He begged me to help and I couldn’t.  And then he died, just like those other people.  At least, that’s what I assume happened to him after we left.” She looked at him, practically begging him with her eyes to tell her she was wrong, but he didn’t.

“He’s dead.  Banshees feed on the frontal lobe.  That’s why the victims die like they do.”  He mimicked a head exploding with his hand, giving her an expectant half smile.  Delilah just stared at him, her eyes wide, horrified.  Dean’s face became serious again and he dropped his hands back to his lap. “Look, it comes with the job; you win some, you lose some and you do the best you can.  I’ve seen much worse in Hell.  Not that it’s supposed to be comforting, it’s just the way things are.”

Delilah slowly straightened up from leaning against the front seat.  She studied Dean’s face in the glow from the street lamps, looking for a sign that he was exaggerating.  His face was dead serious, no little crooked smile, no crinkled eyes, just a contemplative look as he stared out the front windshield and then looked back at her.

“You’ve seen Hell… The Hell? As in biblical, demons, paying for your sins, Hell,” she asked him incredulous.  He pushed out a single breath and smiled painfully.

“Yeah, I spent 40 years there before Cas pulled my soul out.  You know about Cas right?” She nodded to answer his question, not saying anything, her mind barely grasping that Dean had spent more time in Hell than she’d lived up till now.  He kept going, “Spent a year in Purgatory too, and that was no picnic either.  Sam’s had his share of fucked up, some of it because of me,” he let out a strained laugh, “Most of it because of me actually, but he just keeps on going.” He let out a sigh, looked at her and continued, “This gig isn’t for everyone ‘Lilah.  A hunter’s life is not something you just choose to do out of the blue.  Most of us were thrown into it, like Kevin, and we’ve been trying to make it work, to survive, ever since… And let me tell you, the survival rate is not that impressive.” He rubbed at some invisible spot on the seat’s leather, “Sam and I have lost more people to this shit than I can count on my hands.”

“And yet, you’re still going.  You keep putting yourselves out there and risking your lives.”

“Yeah, well, like I said, you don’t choose this life, it chooses you.  Sam and I both tried quitting, tried living ‘normal’ lives, and every time, we just got pulled right back in.  And sometimes, the people we cared about got pulled in too.  That’s what really gets to you in the end, watching people around you suffer because of your mistakes, or just because of who you are.”  He turned to look at her again, the sadness and world weariness clear to read all over his face, “It’s not too late, ‘Lilah.  You can just go back to your life.  You know enough to stay out of the way, live below the radar, so do it.  Live your life, meet some guy, have a bunch of rugrats, whatever.”  Delilah looked away, fidgeting with her nails.

“Yeah, well that never appealed to me.  I never really fit in to what you call ‘normal life.’  I’ve tried.” She looked out the side window, away from his stare, “I feel like I’ve been failing to fit in my whole life.” She let out a harsh laugh, “I have been happier in the past couple months than I have been most of my life, Dean, monster threats and all.  So what does that say about me?  Besides,” she added as an afterthought, “monsters come in all shapes and sizes, some of them are even human.”

She glanced back at Dean and saw him reaching slowly towards her with his hand, then he stopped, holding it in midair a few inches away from her arm.  He had a perplexed look on his face, like he wasn’t sure if he should go ahead and touch her or not.  His face was too priceless, just like that, the tension in her body dissipated and she laughed, shaking her head, her hair falling forward like a veil again as the laughter turned to quiet sobs, releasing the feelings of failure, fear and the rush of adrenaline.  Dean laid a hand on her shoulder.  “C’mere,” he said, his voice low and gentle like a whisper.

Delilah leaned over into his side, his arms folding around her, holding her comfortingly.  She lay her head on his shoulder, her forehead resting against his neck as he rubbed his thumb on her arm in lazy circles.

Cradled in his arms, in the back of the Impala, Delilah felt like she was wrapped in a cocoon of safety.  Everything else just melted away. There was just her, the warm leather, the light breeze through the open window, Dean holding her in his arms, and the steady beat of his heart under her hand.

As quickly as they came on, the sobs passed and they were replaced by a feeling of anticipation as she pulled her head away from his shoulder.  Dean turned his head to look at her.  Delilah’s heart was pounding in her ears as she leaned forward into him and captured his mouth with hers.  Dean reacted instantly, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss, bringing his left hand up to her face and neck.  Delilah pressed her body into his as much as she could, constricted by the angle forced on them by the Impala’s back seat.  She was surprised by how quickly the passion escalated, now that she was kissing him, she couldn’t get enough.  She brought up her hands to his chest and started unbuttoning his shirt, revealing the tattoo of the pentagram encircled by flames that kept out demons.  She felt Dean pull away and close his hand over hers, stopping them from undoing any more buttons.

He held on to her that way, kept his arm around her a couple more heartbeats, then slowly, he lifted his hand away from her so she could straighten up.  He looked at her, eyes fixed on hers, the turmoil of emotions clear to read on his face, making Delilah want to comfort him and tell him that whatever it was, it would be ok. Then he cleared his throat and the mask fell back into place, a cocky grin creeping back onto his face and he said lightly, “Well, I’m not one to complain if a beautiful woman wants to throw herself into my arms you know? But is this really the time?”

Delilah blinked at the sudden change in his demeanour, then she frowned at him and rolled her eyes before grabbing her bag and climbing out of the car to go join Sam in the motel room.  She looked back when she reached the stairs, to see that Dean was still sitting in the Impala, elbow resting on the window frame, a distant look in his eyes.  Maybe the cool, arrogant, borderline offensive Dean she’d gotten to know so far was just another persona, like the FBI guise, that he used to protect himself from the things in his life.  If that’s the case, did she just get a glimpse of the real man beneath the thick skin?

Delilah climbed the stairs, turned the handle and walked into the room.  She dropped her bag on the floor and bent down to untie her boots.  That’s when she saw the scratches and dirt all over her lower legs.  In her mind, she held onto Jeremy again, huddled on the ground just before he ran off.  She shook the memory away.  She kicked off her Docs and straightened up, moving into the room, running her hands through her long hair.  She snared her fingers in a tangle and cursed at the pain on her scalp and the low throb of a headache at the base of her skull.  She looked up and noticed Sam, sitting at the little table again, eyes staring blankly forward.  The computer wasn’t out, but he had a bunch of things in various containers spread out in front of him.  She took a few steps towards him and laid her hand on his shoulder gently.  “Are you ok Sam?”

He seemed to startle out of his thoughts. “Yeah I’m fine,” he said unconvincingly.  He passed a hand through his hair, then leaned his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand.  He seemed to be blinking more than usual, like someone trying to stay awake.

Then his eyes focused on something at her waist and he stood up abruptly, wrapping his long fingers around her wrist.  Delilah’s reflexes almost got the better of her before she realized he was staring at a scrape on her arm.  She relaxed and let him gently inspect her wound.

“This will need to be cleaned, but I don’t think you’ll need stitches.” His gaze shifted to her eyes, “How’s your head?” he asked, his voice low and gentle.

“The back of my head is throbbing from that scream, but otherwise I think it’s fine.  I didn’t hit it or anything.”

Just then the door to the room swung open and Dean walked in carrying a few weapons in his arms.  Delilah turned to look at him and he paused in the entrance, staring at her and his brother.  Delilah turned around and Sam’s hand let go of her wrist.  Dean recovered and started putting the various weapons down on the dresser and Sam started sorting the ingredients on the table.  Delilah checked out the cut on her arm for herself, it was all sticky with clotted blood and she could see dirt and crumbled asphalt stuck in there.

“Damnit, better go clean up.  I’m gonna jump in the shower really quick.”

“If you need a hand in there…”

“Dean!” Sam cut him off glaring.  Delilah frowned at Dean.

“What?” Dean said, looking like an innocent boy… How he managed to do that while talking about sharing a shower with her was beyond her, but Delilah had enough, what the hell was he playing at?

She looked him square in the eye and responded with a little venom in her voice, “I’m really not one to complain when a handsome man wants to get wet with me, but seriously Dean, is this really the time?”

Dean’s face was priceless, he looked like she just slammed a brick in his face.  Savouring her minor victory she walked over to the dresser where Dean had left the weapons, and where he was still standing.  He looked down at her a grin slowly replacing the stunned look.  Delilah tsked at him, “Move you idiot.”  Dean moved aside and she opened the middle drawer taking out her spare jeans, and a t-shirt. She closed the drawer again and stalked back the way she came.  She just caught Sam’s half smile before he ducked his head towards the things in front of him.

Her head was full of too many emotions from the attack and losing Jeremy and then Dean’s rejection in the car and now his confusingly inappropriate comment.  She didn’t want to listen to him being an asshole even if it was a defence mechanism.  She just wanted all of that to stop, she needed quiet in her head, and she needed to be alone.  She stepped into the bathroom and slammed the bathroom door behind her, locking out the soap opera.

She dropped her clothes to the floor and leaned her head against the closed door.  She could hear them arguing through the thin wood.  She pushed off from the door and turned towards the ceramic tub.  She pulled back the plastic curtain and turned the faucets on, adjusting the temperature.  She let it warm up while she stripped down to nothing, carefully pulling the fabric away from the cuts so it didn’t catch.  Then, she stepped under the hot water.  The sting on her cuts was sharp at first, but she quickly got used to it.  She grabbed the bar of soap and cleaned off the dirt from the alley, revealing the barest thin scratches on her knees and the long, red scrape on her forearm where she caught herself when she fell.  She let the hot water pound onto her head and soak into her hair, the sound of it blocking out her thoughts and steadying the emotional hurricane.

She leaned her head against the cool ceramic tiles and let the hot water beat down on her shoulders and down her back, taking deep breaths as she tried to relax.  She could feel the panic lurking in the pit of her stomach though.  Temporarily alleviated by Dean in the car, it pushed at the edges of her consciousness, telling her to get as far away as possible from this new threat.  Maybe they were right, not knowing about these things would be so much easier.  Going back to believing that there’s nothing going bump in the night sounded so simple and yet, what she told Dean was true too.  She didn’t fit in with ‘normal’ either. So where was her place in the world?  Somewhere between hunter and Regular Joe, monsters and humans.

She turned the tap off and grabbed the towel off the drying bar beside the shower.  She patted herself dry and then twisted her hair to squeeze out the water, wincing when it pulled at her headache.  She grabbed a second towel and rubbed the rest of the water out of her hair.  She grabbed her brush and gently ran it through, untangling the knots until it was silky smooth again, then she got dressed.  Hanging up her towel, she was feeling better, maybe not 100% happy like she had been that morning when she got up, but at least ready to tackle the next step in the plan.  At the very least, now they knew what they were dealing with.

When she stepped into the room again, the boys were both sitting at the table sorting through the various ingredients in front of them.  They had changed back into their jeans and plaid shirts, Dean wearing his unbuttoned over a black t-shirt.  Sam had his phone on the table and she could hear Kevin naming ingredients.

“Sage and oregano? Are we making spaghetti sauce now?” Delilah asked incredulously.

“Not unless you like chicken bones and blood in your sauce,” Dean answered a little curtly.

“Mmmm, just like my momma makes it.”  Sam glanced at her with her comment, but the voice on the phone caught her attention.

“Hi Delilah,  you’re still messing around with these guys?  The bunker’s much more awesome.  You should come hang out with me instead.”  Delilah laughed.

“Hey to you too Kevin.  I’m starting to think you’re right, what with all the wardings and it being a creature free zone and all.”

“Do you mind?  We’re trying to prepare a spell.  What’s the final ingredient Kev?” Dean said throwing some bones into the bowl.

“Who got your panties in a twist?” Kevin said, then added before Dean could get mad, “That’s it.  Basically, to activate it, you add your blood and kablooey, no more banshee.”

“Alright, Kevin, great work buddy.” Sam told him before hanging up the phone.

Delilah stared at the bowl in front of her feeling apprehensive.  “So, what now?  We go back out there?” Dean turned to her,

“This is one of those good news, bad news things.  Good news is, we don’t need to go looking for it.  Bad news is, it’s going to come for you.”

“What?” Delilah felt like a block of ice had materialized in her stomach, “Why?”

“We don’t know why it targeted you,” said Sam, trying to sound calm and reassuring, and completely failing to calm and reassure her, “But you saw it.  Banshees only manifest themselves to their victims.  That’s why Dean and I couldn’t see it.”

“So, the fact that I saw it means…”

“It means it’s coming for you next,” said Dean matter of factly, making Delilah sink down to sit on the edge of the bed.

She contemplated being the target of a supernatural being capable of making her want to crack open her own head.  How twisted the world had gotten lately.

“Alright.  So do we wait for it here?” she asked them.

“I think it would be best if you got out of town actually.” Dean said,  “Sam and I can take care of this.”

“But, you just said it’s coming for me, won’t it just follow me out of town?”

“There’s a chance it might do that, but Sam heard it too.  It could be targeting him as well.  If we head to its hunting grounds, there’s a chance it will manifest itself and then we’ll take it out.”

“There’s a chance?  Sounds a lot like wishful thinking Dean.”  Delilah’s logical brain was telling her that the only way to go was for her to lure the creature out herself.  “If it’s coming for me anyways, we can all go to the hunting grounds together and when it shows up you take it out.”

Sam had been watching the back and forth argument and joined in, “I agree with Delilah, Dean.  It’s the only way to make sure we get it.  She’s already marked.”

“We’re not using her as bait Sam!”

“Yes Dean!  It’s the only logical plan,” Delilah said, looking him in the eye.  “The longer we wait, the more chances there are of this thing going after someone else.  It can be over tonight.”

Dean’s face was completely closed, no way to read him, and Delilah was starting to understand that it meant he was fighting some internal struggle, but he soon gave in to their logic and agreed to the plan.

“Fine,” Dean exclaimed, getting up from the table and heading for the dresser with the weapons. “The usual things don’t work with banshees.  They don’t react to iron and even salt isn’t as strong to keep them away.  The only metal that does anything is gold, and we don’t have a gold blade, so we’ll rely on the banishing spell Kevin gave us. Is there somewhere nearby that’s open enough so there’s nowhere to hide but that won’t be crowded with bystanders?”

“We could head to the library lawn.  Plenty of room, and with the attacks, the campus is deserted after dark so it’s not likely anyone will be out. And it’s close to one of the kill sites.” Delilah responded.

“Great, we’ll head there then.”

Dean clipped a knife to his belt and grabbed the shotgun.  Sam picked up the bowl of ingredients from the table and the other shotgun and he handed a knife to Delilah.  She turned it in her hand.

“I thought Dean just said this wouldn’t do anything.”

“You never know, just keep it on you.  And stay safe,” Sam replied.

The three of them walked out the door, down the stairs and they piled back into the Impala.  Delilah picked up her box of salt and stared at the ridiculous things in her hands.  She was going into battle with a toothpick and table condiments.


	3. Chapter 3

_Hope you got your things together._

_Hope you are quite prepared to die._

_Looks like we're in for nasty weather._

_One eye is taken for an eye._

 

_Don't go around tonight,_

_Well, it's bound to take your life,_

_There's a bad moon on the rise._

 

Everything looked quiet when they pulled up in the library parking lot.  Dean turned off the engine and they all looked out the window at the trees lining the edge of campus, the imposing library building off to the left, the divinity school dead ahead.  Everything seemed to be quiet, bathed in the dim light from the waxing moon. “Alright, the coast looks clear,” said Dean looking out the windshield, “‘Lilah, you ready?”  Delilah took a deep breath and nodded, not trusting herself to speak and betray just how scared she was.  They had talked out the plan on the drive over from the motel.  Delilah was going to walk along the footpaths of the library lawn while Sam and Dean held back near the divinity building, hidden among the trees there.  If she saw or heard the banshee, she would signal them and they would move into position to complete the banishing spell.

With a slightly trembling hand, Delilah grabbed the handle and pushed open the Impala door with a creak, the boys doing the same, Dean holding his shotgun she now knew contained rock salt shells. Sam looked at her over the roof of the car, nodding to her, his eyes focused.  She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but with her nerves in knots it probably looked more like a strained smirk. She took a deep breath and turned away, heading in the same direction Dean had.

He hadn’t wandered very far.  She could see his wide back leaning up against one of the trees by the path.  Her whole body was tingling from the stress, the receptors overloaded with sensory information; fear, anticipation and lust all mixed together wildly, completely confusing her.  Now was not the time to lose her head, no matter how much her adrenaline soaked brain made her want to walk over to the man and kiss him again.

She moved past him and continued down the path towards the front of the large library building.  As she turned the corner, the lawn came into full view.  The buildings along the four sides of the wide stretch of green were lit up by ground lighting, making it possible to see, but simultaneously casting the lawn itself in darkness.  The ‘Tree of Learning’ sculpture was also lit up from within, casting eerie shadows all around it.  Delilah shivered, even in the warm night air, and wished she had thought to bring her sweater.  She thought longingly of the comforting safety of the Impala, and the warmth of Dean’s arms around her as she started her aimless stroll along the footpaths.

On her second pass in front of the divinity building, she spotted Sam and Dean partially concealed by the tree trunks in the copse lining the path.  She didn’t get a third pass.  She was rounding the library path, opposite from where the Winchesters were hiding, when she spotted the first tendrils of mist a little ways ahead of her stretching into the open area.  She glanced towards where the boys were waiting and felt panic rise when she realized there was another copse of trees between her and them and therefore they couldn’t see her.

She had to get around those trees.  She looked back to the creeping mist, remembering how the banshee had materialized out of it before.  If she stayed away from it, long enough to signal Sam and Dean, then maybe it wouldn’t get her.  Her heart rate accelerated as she stared at the wispy cloud slowly spreading onto the field in front of her.  She turned around, ready to sprint the other way and break out from behind the clump of trees, but the sight of the thick wall of mist behind her stopped her short.  She had been tricked!  The mist slowly crept towards her, ready to crash in on her from all directions.  Delilah took a step back and felt the cold moist air twist itself around her ankles.  She could feel the panic rising as she felt trapped.  She glanced to her left, hoping to see the Winchesters charging to the rescue when she saw an opening in the misty air.  Without thinking she threw herself at the trees and crashed through the dense foliage, branches whipping at her face and arms, scratching her up, catching in her hair. She had to get to the field to signal the boys before the mist got too thick to see through.

She broke through the last layer of vegetation, the lawn wide open in front of her, the mist continuing to creep onto the expanse of green.  In full sight of the Winchesters’ hiding spot, she stopped and turned around to face the threat, confident now that when the time came, they would do their job.  The fog now stretched over the entire field, spread thin enough to see through but quickly becoming denser.  Delilah pulled out the knife from its sheath at her belt, not feeling quite so vulnerable with a weapon in her hand…  even a useless one.  As the minutes dragged on, and the banshee continued to elude her, Delilah’s fear turned to anger.

“Come on you asshole!  Are we doing this or what?” she found herself yelling into the mist.  What the hell did she just do?

Delilah froze, her eyes wide and round as she saw the creature materialize out of the fog barely a foot away.  Its dark rimed eyes fixed on her hungrily as its black hair seemed to stir in the night air like algae swaying in the current.  Its arms were resting along its skeletal body and Delilah now realized the red dress it wore looked soaked in blood.  It swayed around the bone thin limbs as though moved by a gentle breeze.  It took a slow gliding step towards her and more as a reflex than an intention, Delilah drove the knife into its belly.  It was like trying to cut air, nothing happened, and Delilah felt panic rise again as she stared at her arm disappearing into what looked like the body of the banshee.  It tilted its head at an angle observing her like a curious toddler and Delilah looked up just as she felt the force of the air slam her backwards.  She flew back several feet and landed hard on the lawn, the useless knife no longer in her hand.  She lifted herself onto her elbows and the banshee rematerialized floating above her.  She scrambled to get out from under her and started running.  She didn’t make it three steps that it reappeared right in front of her, stopping her dead in her tracks.  Delilah made to turn around again when it opened its mouth.

Even knowing what was coming, Delilah couldn’t help crumpling into a ball as the unearthly scream invaded her consciousness.  She held onto her ears, knowing it wouldn’t help, but unable to do otherwise and she screamed as the pain seared into her skull.  All she could think of was getting the sound out of her head.  Where the fuck was Dean?

Out of the mist, he came running at them, aiming the shotgun at the thick white air, and trying to get a fix on her through the cloudy cover.  Dean found her and fell to one knee, wrapping his around her shoulders and tucking her into his side like a protective shield.  But he couldn’t protect her from what was inside her head.

The scream bounced around like thunder on a mountain lake, getting soft then growing loud again, so loud it felt like her skull would vibrate open from the inside, and then it would soften again.  She clutched at Dean, who was holding her, looking all around blindly.

“Do you see it ‘Lilah?  Help me out here.” Delilah shook her head, tears streaming down her face as the scream grew in intensity again. Dean looked at her tear stained face and said, “Ok, that’s enough.  I’m getting you out of here.”

He took her hand and stood up, pulling her to her feet. Suddenly, he was yanked backwards away from her, she fell to her knees again as he landed ass over teakettle a little ways away, the shotgun disappearing on the misty ground. Delilah watched him get to his feet, growling, “Oh that’s it, now I’m really gonna gank this fucker.”  He flew back again, this time landing out of sight behind the wall of mist.  Delilah screamed his name, but all was quiet.  She got to her feet, attempting to fight the din in her head and trying to get to Dean, but she crumpled again after barely a step.  From behind her, she heard Sam’s running footsteps and he kneeled beside her, putting the bowl containing the spell down on the grass.

“It’s almost over, just hang on,” he told her as he took his knife out and made to cut himself.

“I can’t see Dean anymore,” Delilah said groaning as the scream got loud again.

“He’ll be fine, he can take care of himself.” She put her head down on the cool grass and covered it with her arms.  That’s when she felt something cold and hard under her cheek.  She picked up the stone and stared at it, a crazy idea taking over.  If the sound was stuck, all she had to do was let it out and she wouldn’t hear it anymore.  She watched, unable to stop herself as her hand holding the rock started moving towards her face quickly.  “Oooh no you don’t!”  Sam said as he yanked the rock out of her hand and threw it with all his strength far away from them.  He grabbed Delilah’s wrists and forced her to turn towards him.

“Hold on Delilah, you gotta fight this.”

“It just doesn’t stop Sam!  Make it stop!”  The tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she sobbed out her plea.

“I know, I know.  You just have to tell me when you see it ok?  Can you do that?”

Delilah nodded.  Sam positioned the knife on his arm again, ready to spill his blood into the bowl and complete the spell.  Delilah tried her best to scan the mist through eyes half closed from the pain in her head.  She turned back to look at Sam and she saw it standing over him, a furious look in its barely visible eyes.  Delilah didn’t even have time to say anything and Sam was thrown back, slammed into the mist and gone.

Delilah lay down in the cold damp grass, and keened from the pain and hopelessness suffusing her entire being.  She couldn’t think, she couldn’t move, she could barely endure.  She didn’t know how much more she could take.

A glint in the grass caught her attention as the noise ebbed away slightly, gearing up for the next round.  She lifted her head a little and saw Sam’s knife laying in the grass in front of her.  A little beyond it, she saw the bowl and inside the bowl was everything she needed to banish the creature forever.  Well, almost everything.

Anticipation made Delilah’s breath catch in her throat as she realized what she had to do.  She lunged for the knife, wrapping her hand around the blade as the scream suddenly intensified louder than before and rattled her head, overpowering the pain in her hand, but she would not be deterred.  She let go of the blade and glanced at her bloody hand as she saw the banshee materialize in front of her, the hem of her blood soaked dress right beside the bowl.  Delilah rolled onto her back bringing herself right up to it and as the banshee looked down at her, Delilah slammed her bleeding hand into the bowl yelling, “Go rot in Hell you bitch.”

The scream’s pitch increased as a bright blue light beamed out of the bowl, blinding Delilah and lighting up the mist all around her turning the grey world bright white and opaque. She covered her eyes with her other arm to shield herself.  She heard the banshee scream, but this time it was out there, no longer bouncing around in her head.

Then suddenly, the night was dark and silent around her.

She slowly pulled her arm away from her face and lifted her head off the grass.  The mist had completely disappeared, the lawn dark once more.  She fell back onto the soft springy blades in relief and looked up at the faintly twinkling stars in the night sky and the July moon beaming down on her.  Nothing had ever looked so beautiful and she felt content just watching the sky, the leaves of the nearby trees swaying gently in her peripheral vision, pushed around by a light breeze, making a soothing sound like rain or crashing waves.

Then she heard the shuffling stir of clothes rubbing on grass and Delilah sat up a little dizzily and saw Sam getting stiffly to his feet illuminated by the tree sculpture’s internal lighting a few feet away.  Relief flooded her system seeing that he was alright.  The relief was fleeting though as she realized that the older brother was still out of sight.

She sat up straighter, accidentally using her cut hand to push herself to her knees and feeling the sharp pain.  She gasped and winced as she looked down at the still bleeding line carved into her palm.  She swayed to her feet awkwardly, and looked around.

Ice froze her veins to her very core as she spotted the dark outline of a body laying at the base of the ‘Learning Tree.’“No,” Delilah whispered as she took in the strangely still figure that looked for all the world like someone taking a nap under a tree in the summer, except for the odd angle of his head.

Delilah cried out his name and lurched forward towards him, praying that he was alright, “Please God, don’t let him be dead.”  She reached his feet and collapsed at his side, careful not to touch him as she looked for signs of life.  Too scared to go near his neck, she took his wrist and held her fingertips over the spot that normally pulsed with blood flow.  “No no no no,” she whispered over and over as she waited without feeling anything.  She bent her ear close to his mouth and nose holding her hair away, now desperately hoping for a breath, for anything.

Delilah sobbed and she sat back on her heels, clutching her arms around her stomach as she realized that he was gone.  He was gone and it was her fault.  If she hadn’t called them…  She had gotten him killed.

The crunch of boots on the grass alerted Delilah to Sam’s presence behind her.  She had forgotten about him in her grief.  She turned to look up at him, tears streaming down her face.  “I’m so sorry Sam.  This is all my fault.”

In a strange, emotionless voice, Sam answered her, “If you move aside, I can help.”

His speech had a strange pattern to it, too formal with a strange intonation and pausing in odd places.  Delilah looked at him as he crouched down beside her and fixed Dean with an intense look.  He turned his head stiffly towards her and repeated, “Please, move aside.”

She looked at him confused as she shuffled to the side and out of the way.  The man in front of her was clearly Sam, but at the same time, the eyes looking at her were so completely not Sam that it was terrifying.  She had grown used to the way Sam looked at her, his stare was always warm and his smile welcoming, even when he was looking dead tired, this man’s stare was cold and his facial features were stiff like he was wearing a Sam mask.

“Sam? Are you ok?” she asked hesitatingly.

“I am not Sam, but I can heal Dean if you do not interfere.”

And suddenly, a memory flashed in Delilah’s head of a very similar scene but where the situation was reversed: Sam laying unconscious on the cold sterile floor of a commercial kitchen with Dean trying to shake him awake.  She had been confused then because he had called his brother by a different name.  “Zeke?” she whispered, terrified of the answer.

“That is what Dean calls me.  Now, I need to concentrate.”

Delilah stopped talking, holding her breath, waiting to see what this terrifying not-Sam  would do.  Delilah frowned as he put two fingers to Dean’s forehead and closed his eyes in concentration.  Her fear and confusion quickly turned to surprise and relief as Dean gasped, like someone taking a deep breath after being underwater for too long.  He opened his eyes as Sam fell backwards, knocked out cold.  “Sam!” Delilah called out as she reached towards him.  And suddenly Dean was kneeling at her side.  “Dean!  Thank God!” She threw her arms around his neck and her body slammed into his making him sway as he struggled to keep his balance.  She clung to him for dear life, tightening her arms around his neck, oblivious to the pain in her hand as she tucked her chin in the crook of his neck and shoulder.  His arms wrapped around her, one resting across her lower back, holding her waist tightly and the other straight up, his hand cradling the base of her head through her hair.

“What happened?” he asked her hoarsely.  She pulled away enough to look at his face, but kept holding onto his shoulders.

“You were… hurt,” Delilah said, unable to say out loud that he had been dead.  “Zeke healed you somehow and then he just passed out.”

“You know about Zeke?” Dean asked, tensely.  They both glanced at Sam when he groaned and started to stir.  Dean looked back at her speaking urgently, wrapping his hands around her upper arms and holding her at arms’ length, “Listen, Sam can’t know about Zeke ok?”  Delilah frowned confused.

“What? Why?  What’s going on?”  Dean glanced back at his waking brother and then back to Delilah again.

“I can’t explain right now, but I will.  It’s important that Sam not find out about him, got it?”

“Yeah, sure Dean.”

Sam groaned again and brought a hand to his head as he tried to sit up, disoriented.  Dean let go of Delilah and turned towards his brother, extending his arm.  “Whoa buddy, take it easy.”

Sam took his brother’s arm and together they stood up.  Delilah stood up too and rocked sideways as a wave of dizziness hit her.  Dean managed to catch her before she fell and he noticed the blood covering her hand.

“Sonofabitch!” he exclaimed.

“Get her back to the car, you can patch her up there,” Delilah was relieved that it was Sam talking again, “I’ll go pick up the gear,” he said, turning towards the lawn where presumably a few knives, two shot guns and a bloody bowl were just laying about.

“I’m fine, I just feel a little dizzy, that’s all.”

Dean hooked one arm under her knees and picked her up, carrying her back to the car, the whole way Delilah objecting and insisting she could walk as she leaned her head against his shoulder, feeling his warmth and breathing in his comforting scent. He opened the passenger side door and propped it wide with his foot, then he gently lowered Delilah onto the front seat.  He opened the glove compartment, rummaging around briefly before pulling out an old looking army surgical kit.  He took her injured hand in his and examined it.

“Bah, it’s not so bad.  You call this a cut?” Dean said in a mocking voice, taking an alcohol swab from the kit, “This is nothing.  You better not get blood all over my Baby.”

Delilah gave him a withering stare and then winced as he gently wiped away the excess blood to see what he was dealing with.  Once all the blood was cleaned off, it really didn’t look so bad.  He folded a piece of gauze pad in two and laid it in the palm of her hand over the cut.  Then, he wrapped it firmly with more gauze and taped the end in place.

“Keep pressure on that ok?” he said his voice soft, “It’s not bleeding much anymore, but better to be safe.”

Delilah nodded at him, pressing the length of her thumb firmly along where the gauze pad was.  She turned her body and pulled her legs into the car, and Dean closed the door.  Sam appeared from behind the line of trees looking like an extra from an action film – three knives stuck in his belt, a shotgun in one hand, another under his arm and the bowl held in his other hand.  He moved to the back of the car and Dean joined him, putting everything in the trunk, slamming the lid shut.  They exchanged a few words, but Delilah couldn’t make them out.

They reappeared on either side of the car.  Dean got into the driver’s seat, sitting down next to her and she watched in the side mirror as Sam opened the back door and sat down in the back seat, all the while she was pondering the secret existence of Zeke.  She had so many questions about what happened back at the tree and the kind of creature that can bring people back to life.  She turned towards the man who held all the answers as he drove back towards the motel, one hand on the wheel, staring out the windshield at the lamplit street.

By the time Dean parked the Impala beside Delilah’s Tercel, Sam had fallen asleep on the back seat.  Delilah looked at him from her spot in the front, his face looking a little pale, his body looking impossibly big, bent to fit laying on the backseat.  Dean had switched off the ignition.  Delilah turned her eyes to him when he tapped her knee gently.  He tilted his head towards the outside of the car and she nodded, grabbing the handle and pushing open her door.

She followed Dean to the tree lined edge of the motel parking lot, where he leaned up against a tree and she sat on the edge of a large granite planter.  She looked at her bandaged hand, tongue-tied now that the rush of adrenaline was entirely gone.  Seconds turned to minutes and Delilah’s neck prickled, and she knew that when she looked up, Dean would be looking at her.  Suddenly shy again, she looked anywhere but up.  Dean cleared his throat, “You did good tonight.”

Delilah looked up at him surprised, tears threatening in her eyes again and she blinked them away angrily, “No I didn’t.  I had no idea what I was doing.”

“You got rid of the banshee.  When it came down to it, even with it attacking you, you did what you had to do.  Like a good hunter.”

He was looking so earnest, how could she not believe him? She felt unworthy of the praise though.  Her voice was barely a whisper as she spoke, looking at her booted feet, “I got you killed.”

Dean’s quiet laughter surprised her.  She looked at him confused, frowning.  He was smiling broadly when he said, “I should get a loyalty card, like frequent flyer miles or something.”

She wouldn’t be distracted though, “I don’t understand how, but if it hadn't been for Zeke, you would be gone.  How am I supposed to feel about that?  It’s sheer dumb luck that you’re walking and talking right now,” she said, angry with herself.

“Hey, stop it.  That kind of thinking is not going to get us anywhere ok?  You’re fine, Sam’s fine and so am I.  That’s all that matters.  There’s absolutely no point in worrying about what did not happen.  Got it?”

Delilah nodded her head.  “So, what did happen?”

Dean let out a frustrated growl as he pushed away from the tree and paced in front of her.  Delilah watched him walk back and forth, looking like he didn’t know where to start.  Delilah grabbed his hand with her good one, “You’re making me dizzy,” she told him and pulled him down to sit next to her on the edge of the planter.  She figured he might have an easier time if she asked him questions, “So, who or what is Zeke?”

Dean sighed, “Zeke is an angel.”

Delilah’s eyes widened in surprise, “Ok.  How did he come to be inside Sam then?”

Dean stood up and started pacing again, upset, “It was out of my control ok?  I had no other choice.  Sam woulda died otherwise.  He could still die.”  He stopped in front of Delilah and looked right at her, “That’s why he can’t know about him.  Without Zeke, Sam dies, pure and simple.  At least, until he’s done healing him.”

Delilah reeled at the thought that Sam was so hurt that angel possession was the only way to heal him, especially considering that Zeke had just brought Dean back from the dead with barely a touch…  How sick could Sam be?  Then Dean told her what happened. He told her about the trials to close the gates of Hell, how they had slowly been killing Sam, and then how Dean stopped him just before completing the third task, and how it had left him dying in a coma, and then in his desperation, he prayed for help and Zeke showed up.  Delilah listened, completely awestruck.  This stuff went far beyond killing a monster here and there, closing the gates of Hell?  Dean was telling her full out hero of legends stuff like Hercules and David and so many others she had studied.

But Delilah frowned, still not sure she understood, “Wouldn’t Sam be grateful to have the help from an angel?  Why the secrecy?”

Dean seemed to deflate as he sat back down next to her, staring dead eyed ahead of him.  “Angels can’t possess humans without their permission.  In the same way, Sam can reject him at any time.  So until he’s well again, he can’t know.”

“You’re that sure that if he knew, he would get rid of him?  Even if it killed him?”  Dean didn’t answer, he just stared at the ground, looking conflicted.  “How did he get possessed in the first place?  How did he give permission if he doesn’t know?”  she asked.  Dean rubbed the back of his neck and looked uncomfortable.

“I had to trick him.  He said yes to Zeke, thinking it was me.”

Delilah was shocked, if Sam was so against this, then he must have his reasons, it seemed like a form of betrayal on Dean’s part to force it onto him and then hide it from him.  Nothing good ever came of keeping secrets, and this was one hell of a secret.

“What about Castiel?  Or Kevin?  Do they know about this?”  Dean was looking uncomfortable again.

“No, they don’t know.  Cas knows that an angel helped heal Sam, he vouched for Zeke, but he doesn’t know Sam is possessed.”

The pieces were starting to fit together.  Delilah managed to link together things Sam had told her at the bunker with some of this new information.  “Is that why Castiel is not at the bunker?”  Dean turned and looked at her, his eyes wide in surprise, he nodded, confirming her suspicions.  Delilah leaned over and put her head on Dean’s shoulder to comfort him.  “The secret is safe with me Dean.  I won’t tell Sam.”

Starting to feel the tiredness seep in, Delilah closed her eyes and yawned.  When she opened them again she thought she saw something moving by the corner of the building near the street.  She straightened up, trying to see more clearly in the dark shadows.  Her neck started prickling again, feeling someone watching her.  A light breeze picked up and Delilah shivered in her t-shirt.  The feeling went away as suddenly as it came on.

She thought, once again since meeting the Winchesters, about how strange life can get in a single day.  She also realized for the first time how strange it will be going back to Topeka and her ‘normal’ life.  Somehow the idea felt so abstract, like this was her life, and the computer wielding Delilah was the odd one.  But she was more and more convinced, that it would be a matter of time before computer Delilah disappeared entirely.

Yesterday, she had been doing research, today she hunted and killed a banshee, what surprises did tomorrow have in store for her?

 

_Don't go around tonight,_

_Well, it's bound to take your life,_

_There's a bad moon on the rise._


End file.
